JAMES, Tilt UNRULY,
A St. Patrick's Day Episode
Wliicii Developed a "Cupid."
By CLARISSA MACKIE.
(Copyright. 1910. by American Press Asso
ciation.!
"James Mullin. you may remain after
school." said Miss I'egnn, pointing a
long ruler at t!ie tree!;led faced boy.
Jimmy smiled scornfully and threw
another paper wad at the back of Ids
bitterest foe and settled down in his
seat.
"Get your hat and coat, James. 1
am going to take you to your father.
Perhaps you will explain to him why
you cannot obey me."
When Anna Degan reached Sir. Mul
lin's office she confronted a tall, hand
some man with black eyes much like
Jimmy's own. who looked down upon
the two visitors with a friendly smile.
"Sit down," lie said, bringing for
ward a chair.
"I am James' teacher—Miss Degan,"
■she began primly. "James is so un
ruly. Mr. Slullin, that I have brought
him with me today to say that unless
your influence can be brought to bear
upon him or that you can assure me
•of his future good behavior I very
much fear that Mr. Broadtnan will
expel him."
Sir. Mullin'a lino r-ves widened with
unconcealed surprise. "Well, really,"
he said after a little pause, "it's hard
ly my place, you see, to be responsible
tor Jimmy's behavior."
Anna arose with sparkling eyes and
cheeks flushed with Indignation. "Oh,
do not say that. Sir. Slullin! How can
you, a father, repudiate any responsi
bility for your son's conduct?
Sir. Mullin seemed to find unusual
interest In the lovely face framed In
its mist of dusky hair He seemed re
luctant to terminate tim interview by
any definite answer.
"Then you refuse to interfere, Mr.
Mullin?" Miss Degan's voice was
haughty now, and her red lip curled
with contempt. "As a father"— she
paused suggestively.
Mr. Mullin seemed to awaken to new
Jife. "As a father," he said vaguely—
HE UAD ANOTHER MAN WITH lIIM THIS 1
TIME.
"as a father" — lie stopped abruptly
and shot a fierce glance at Jimmy edg
ing toward the outer door. Then he
went on with a return of the friendly
smile with which he had greeted her:
"1 believe you will have no further
trouble with Jimmy, Miss Degan. I
will take him in hand, tie shall not
cause you any more trouble. 1 am
sorry lie lias distressed you. it must
be rather a task to keep these young
imps in order."
From his tail height he looked down
on her in such genial good nature that
Anna Degae found herself liking Al-I
derman Mullin very much indeed. I
"Thank you so much, Mr. Slullin," she i
said gratefully. "1 was afraid to come
to you at first because"— She paused
in embarrassment and turned to the
door.
Sir. Slullin's eyes twinkled. "Alder
man Slullin's bark is worse than his
bite," he said dryly as he opened the
outer door and accompanied her to the
elevator.
At the farther end of the corridor
James, tlie unruly, was engaged in a
silent, furious wrestling match with the
office boy. At Sir. Mullln's sharp whis
tle they disentangled themselves and
approached.
It was then that Mr. Slullin gripped
one of Jimmy's generous ears and so
led him,walking stiffly, into the inner
office and closed tile door.
Iu the long ride uptown Anna Degan
tried to forget tho interview with Al
derman Slullin. It bad turned out
much better than she had expected,
and yet there had seemed an instant
when he was about to refuse to take
any part In the discipline of his own
and only son. She had been surprised
to find t'ie father of James such a
young ai 1 amiable looking man. She
had liea. 1 such stories of his fiery,
dominant nature she had hesitated to
bring a complaint before him. She
had feared for the boy—Jimmy had
always spoken in tones of almost ter
ror of his father—and yet—
She gave up the problem and tried
to think of the pleasure that awaited
her that evening. It was the 17th of
March—St. Patrick's day—and she was
going to the big ball of the Loyal Em
erald Knights. Mr. Mullin had worn
a sprig of shamrock in the lapel of his
well fitting coat. Anna blushed redly
and remembered with a certain fierce
exultation the day that Jimmy's moth
er, "Mrs. Alderman Slullin," had visit
ed the school. The •recollection of her
rubicund face and good natured and
voluble flow of conversation quite drove
away the picture of Jimmy's good look
ing father. After that she thought of
nothing snve the ball.
The orchestra was playing "The
Kerry Dance" when Anna entered the
ballroom witli her sister and brother
in-law, and her littla foot beat time
to the swinging measure with antici
pated delight.
Iler gown was a triumph of tender
1 'e for the mother country and affec-
tlon Hiul loyalty to the new republic
that had opened Its arms to her peo
pie. Anna hart planned It weeks he
fore, nnrt her skillful tinkers hart made
It—green silk gauze embroidered with
I little gulden harps, folds of white eliir
| fon Inside the low cut bodice, and in
side the chiffon against her suowy
neck three folds of chiffon—rert, white,
! and blue.
I The entrancing music of old Irish
J melodies, the polished Moor crowded
| with brilliant gowns and the handsome
J uniforms of the Emerald Knights, the
i eager spectators in the gallery over
heart, nil formed a beautiful picture
that Anna Degan never forgot.
She danced again ami again with old
friends and new ones whom her broth
er-in-law, Larry Kane, brought up to
| her. As she sat resting, her face
I aglow with exercise and pleasure.
! Larry approached with a large red
j faced man. black of brow and with
I scowling black eyes. His smile was
! pleasant, however, and seemed to in
dicate that tin? scowl was but a bad
; habit.
! Anua's heart seemed to stand still
when Larry spoke, "Anna, let me in
| troduce Sir. Mullin—Sir. Alderman
Mullin of the Seventh ward."
Then Larry disappeared, and Anna
found herself permitting Mr. Mullin
to scrawl his name against the next
vacant space on her dance card, which
proved to be the one she was sitting
out. and so presently she was whirling
about in tin- stiff embrace of Mr. Al
derman Mullin, who growled a few
sentences above her head, stepped on
her pretty green shod toes without
apologizing ami finally left her breath
lessly sitting on a divan in a corner
far distant from her little group of
friends.
She was glad of the respite to think
over the startling situation. If this
gentleman was Alderman Mullin, the
father of James, the unruly, who. then,
was the gcnileman who had imper
sonated the alderman and made him
self responsible for the behavior of
James?
Across the room a couple revolved
stiffiy In the giratious of a waltz:
Anna recognized the burly form of the
now familiar Mr. Mullin and also that
of the lady she had known as Jimmy's
mother. As for the other man—her
face grew hot with indignation, and
she looked lovelier than ever when
Larry found her out. lie had another
man with him tills time.
"Sir. Alderman Mullin's cousin, sis—
another Slullin and a gentle knight
a good friend of my own! George, my
sister. Miss Degan!"
Larry left the two facing each other
in the quiet corner, the man, resplen
dent in green and white satin and gold,
looking tenderly down on the young
girl in green and gold.
Sliss Degan looked him squarely in
the face and with contemptuous shrug
turned away, but he caught her little
gloved hand in his own with a swift
gesture.
"Wait, please," lie said gravely, and
Miss Degan waited for his explanation.
It came after a little while, haltingly,
as from a mau who is not accustomed
to explain his actions:
"When a little lad is afraid of his
father, Sliss Degan, he naturally turns
to some man whom he knows Is fond
of him and will stand by him in trou
ble. Jimmy confessed to me tills after
noon that he was afraid to take you
to his father—his father would thrash
him, and that is all the good it would
do! So the lad brought you to me and
trusted me to understand tlie situation
and to stand by him. I didn't get on
to his little game till after you went,
though I understood from his looks he
was in trouble, so I let it go, hoping
to see you again and explain matters
to you. I had a talk with Jimmy, and
lie's going to be good. In fact. I've told
b.;n I shall call at the school every
W 'elc and find out what his deport
ment is. I hope you do not mind. Miss
I '• gan."
Anna listened to the long speech
v ith downcast eyes and trembling lips.
S!:e was glad that she had spared Jim
my a whipping from his stern father
and that this kind hearted cousin had
masqueraded before her as Jimmy's
parent. lie had a good face, and, after
ail, Jimmy would Improve and room
No. 12 might be a credit to the grade
after all!
She smiled gratefully up at Mr.
George Slullin and dashed a tear from
the corner of her eye. "1 am very glad
you did not disillusion me. I was so
tired and cross just then I might have
taken Jimmy down to his father's of
fice, wherever it Is."
"He'll be a good boy after this,"
promised Jimmy's big cousin as they
glided Into a waltz. Sweetly, alluring
ly. eauie the strains of "Kathleen Xlit
vourneen," and they did not speak
again until it was over. After a little
while Slullin asked softly:
"And I may come to the school once
a week and look at Jimmy's report,
Miss Degan?"
Anna's fingers touched the little
golden harps on her pretty fan. and
they seemed to give forth strange,
sweet music—happy music that fell in
cadence with his deep, melodious voice:
"Yes, come," she said demurely. "I
think it is a very good idea."
Jimmy Slullin never could under
stand why, after that. Ills cousin,
George Slullin. always called him "Cu
pid."
The Vhita Shark.
The shark of sharks, the real "man
eater" and tile one most dreaded, is
the white shark. This variety reaches
a length of thirty live feet and a
weight of 2.000 pounds. Its head Is
long and fiat, and the snout far over
hangs the mouth. Its six rows of teeth
are sharp as lancets and notched like
saws. Its mouth Is very large, so that
one has been known to cut a man's
body completely in two at a single
snap of its cruel Jaws and another to
swallow one at a gulp. Near Calcutta
one of these sharks was seen to swal
low a bullock's head, horns and all.
From the stomach of another a bull's
hide was taken entire, and the sailor
who made the discovery insisted that
the bull had been swallowed whole
and all except the hide had been di
gested. Trom the stomach of another
w-as taken a lady's workbox filled with
the usual contents, scissors and all. It
is commonly the white shark which
follows the vc sel at sea day after day
and week after week.
Let no man presume to give advice
to others who lias not first given good
counsel to himself. Seneca.
THE KEY OF DEATH,
A Story of Italian Methods In
Mediaeval Times.
Dy F. A. MITCHEL.
[Copyright, 1910, by American Tress Asso- !
elation.]
When Venice was mistress of the |
maritime world she attracted many
young men desirous of profiting by her
commercial advantages. Among them
was one Giuseppe I'essero, who went
there from Home. Pessero was of
i good family and had been Intimate
with the Borgias, the Farnese and
other great families at a time when
the Italians were very skillful In get
ting rid of those who stood In their
way by menus of poison.
One afternoon, while being pulled In j
a gondola from St. Slark's down to- |
ward the liialto, Pessero passed a barge
in which sat a vision of loveliness. I
"Giovanni!" exclaimed Pessero when '
the two boats had passed. "Who is
that lady?"
"That, slgnor," replied tlie gondolier,
"is Signorina Francesea del Prombo."
"Turn, Giovanni—turn at once and
follow." •
The gondola was swung around and
pulled to a flight of steps leading to j
the square of St. Slark's. The lady |
had embarked and entered the square j
when Pessero's gondola drew up to |
the steps. In a few minutes ho saw
tile Signorina Francesea join a party of
gentlemen and ladies who were sit- \
ting idly, some reading, some playing
on lutes, others chatting. Pessero, see- j
ing one among them he knew, spoke to
him and was introduced to the group. |
Bui it was Francesea that he want- !
ed. Seizing the earliest opportunity,
he devoted himself to her, though
without encouragement. Francesea
was betrothed to Luigi Sansovino, one
of her own rank and high in favor |
with the doge. Disregarding this, Pes- !
sero persisted in his attentions and I
after an acquaintance of a few weeks j
made bold to ask for Signorina del
Prombo's band. It Is needless to say |
that his suit was rejected.
That was a far different age from j
this. While the people had attained a i
certain refinement, they seemed still I
to retain the traits of their barba- j
rian ancestors. It was not an uncom- j
mon thing for a man rejected by a
woman to revenge himself upon her. I
□OltllOlt STRICKEN', HIS BRIDE BEST OYBR
HIM.
Pessero resolved that no one except
himself should possess Francesea. 1
But lie bided his time. He beard of j
the preparations making for her wed- j
ding with Sansovino, how the looms
were spinning tine fabrics for her
wedding gown and how the most deli- !
cate lace was being woven for her
adornment. He showed no sign of ills- j
satisfaction. He was engaged in< -t of
the day and at times far into the night I
in a little workshop that lie had fitted 1
up in his home.
When the day for the wedding came ;
Pessero stood at the entrance to St. 1
Mark's church, where the ceremony '
was to take place, among a crowd of |
people eager to see the beautiful Fran- j
cesea del I'rombo attired for the bri- j
dal. The groom as he passed in saw j
the face of the man who had aspired
to his place wearing the look of a !
fiend. Pessero was on the inner edge
of the crowd, and the two men touch- j
ed as the procession passed. Sanso- j
vino looked away and in another mo
ment felt a sharp pain In his breast.
Before he had entered the body of the j
church he fainted. Horror stricken, !
his bride bent over him, endeavoring j
to recall liini to consciousness—all In j
vain. In a few minutes he was dead. |
Francesca's quick eye had detected i
the malevolent face of Pessero in the
crowd, and she was seized with an in- j
definable Oicad. From the moment ,
her lover had sunk down on the mar- '
ble pavement she divined that lie had '
been stricken by tlie hand of her re- [
Jected suitor, j-'lie vas carried to the
canal, placed in her barge and rowed j
to the family palace. As soon as slio j
came out of the frantic condition into |
which she hart been thrown by the 1
tragedy she cried:
"He was killed by Pessero!"
"Pessero!" exclaimed her father and
mother In a breath.
"He was at the church. He rubbed
against Luigi as wo passed. The fiend
killed him!"
Slgnor del I'rombo consulted with his
most intimate friends, and It was con
sidered possible for Pessero to have
stabbed his victim by means of a
blade so thin that no blood would flow.
A surgeon was directed to carefully ex
amine the body, with a view to dis
covering if the mark of any instru
ment of death had been left upon it.
The examination was made and the
report awaited with Intense eagerness.
"Well," said Slgnor del Prombo when
the surgeon came to report.
"He was assassinated."
"How? Stabbed?"
"Not exactly. A small steel needle
was injected into the flesh."
"How? By whom?"
"That I cannot tell."
"Was death caused by this Instru
ment?"
"There may have been poison on It." j
"Could you detect poison?"
"There were no traces of anything ]
on fhe needle."
The I)ei i'rombo family were sure
J that the needle hail iu some tuysierl
j ous manner been injected by Pessero
Into the breast of the murdered man.
| But who was to give evidence of the
• fact? Nor were the courts of that
time overburdened with justice. More
than that, the detective methods of the
present day were then unheard of. So
there was nothing to do but suffer and
l permit the murderer togo his way.
Franccsea, feeling that her life had
been blighted, decided togo into a
convent. The palace of St. Mark's and
Its gay company knew her no more.
She disappeared entirely from the
world.
One day not long after her retire
ment Pessero succeeded under the
guise of a mendicant In gaining access
to licr. Before she was aware of it
she was in an apartment alone with
the murderer of her lover. Throwing
off Ids disguise, he knelt at her feet
| and implored her to take pity on one
I who loved licr better than life.
lie was greeted with a look of hor
j ror, of detestation and with but one
I word:
"Murderer!"
lie attempted to plead, but Frances
! ca raised a cry for help, and In a mo
ment the room was filled with nuns.
Pessero, foiled, slunk away. But as he
departed he gave Fraucesca a look that
froze her soul. It was love changed to
hate, ami with it was mingled triumph.
He had no sooner gone than Fran
j ce ea quickly placed her hand on her
! breast. The expression ou her face
told those about her that something
| serious had happened. Then she be
i gan to tear open her bodice, and there
\ on her bosom was a drop of blood.
In a word she told them that she had
been stabbed by the man who had
| killed her lover.
A surgeon who attended the nuns
when they were ill happened to be In
the convent at the time. lie was hur
ried to Francesca. In as few words
as possible he was told that something
was doubtless underneath the tiny
wound, and he probed for It. In a few
| moments he extracted a steel needle.
By this time Francesca was losing
consciousness from the effects of the
! wound, and the surgeon, believing that
' the needle had been poisoned before
| being Injected, used such antidotes as
! he was acquainted with. For several
| hours Francesca's life hung In the
| balance; then slowly she began to
j revive and in a few days was restored.
In the present ease Pessero was
known to have been with his Intended
j victim at. the time she was stricken,
and this, taken with tho circumstances
; of Sanso vino's death, was strong evl
| dence against him. Francesca's fnther
had concealed the cause of the death
; of Sanso vino and the suspicion that
| rested on Pessero. Desirous of getting
1 other evidence, he directed that the
i murderer should be kept in Ignorance
; of what was known of his methods.
| Pessero, who had stricken Francesca
; in a moment of passion and kuew from
| her greeting that the circumstances
| connected with tho two tragedies
1 would be sutllclent to convict him,
j fled.
Signor del Prouibo no sooner lenrn
j ed that his daughter was out of dan
' ger than he sought Pessero. Not find-
I lug him and learning that he had been
j seen pulling in a boat for the luuln
| land, Del Prombo followed, caught the
' murderer and, single handed, brought
[ him back to Venice. Pessero was
| thrown Into prison and his homo
| searched. There in his workshop were
j found a number of parts which to
i gether made up the implement used in
j his crimes.
It was a large key, in appearance
j very simple, but really very complex.
; The handle, being turned, exposed a
spring which, when pressed, sent from
' the other end <»f the key a poisoned
1 needle of surh fineness that it entered
j the flesh and burled itself there, leav
ing no external trace.
There is a bridge In Venice called
the "Bridge of Sighs." It spans a nar
! row canal lending from a prison to
the palace of the doges, where court
; was held, it is generally supposed
j that In mediaeval times political pris
oners passed oyer it fur trial. It was,
I however, a passage for common male
j factors. Visitors in Venice may now
I go from tli - palace over the bridge to
' the prison aul down Into its dungeons.
| In one of these dungeons Pessero was
I confined, lie passed over the "Bridge
! of Sighs" to Ids trial and, after Ills
j conviction, passed back over the same
| bridge to await his execution.
It Is said that Francesca, whose life
| he had turned from one of happiness
j to a cloister existence and who had,
I under the Influence of tho sisters, been
■ turned to piety,_v.ished to petition the
j court to spare I'essero's life, but \':is
| dissuaded from doing so by the mother
' superior on the ground that the church
j aid not interfere with justice. Pessero
| was hanged.
Francesca never left the convent in
which she had sought a retreat when
the world paled before her. After the
I death of her father she Inherited a for-
I tune, which she gave to tho poor.
1 The waters of the Grand canal wash
! the steps leading to the palace of her
j family, la" It Is now occupied for
| commercial purposes. The glory of
Venice and her former home have van
! lshed.
Cuba's New Stamps.
' Stamp collectors will probably bo
j interested in the new Issue of Cuban
! postage and revenue stamps which
I have been printed In New York city.
I The Cuban government has discarded
j the old design that has been used for
I several years and has substituted the
portraits of tho men who distinguished
| themselves in the military service of
J the country. The stamps range In de
nomination from 1 cent to sl.
Eskimos For South Pole Dash.
Eskimo drivers, with their dog
teams, are 'o accompany the Ameri
can south polar expedition, according
to Professor Donald B. McMillan, who
was ono of Commander Peary's chief
assistants In the latter's successful
north pole search. In a lecture at
Blddeford, Me., Professor McMillan
said that during the coming summer
ho and Captain Bobert Bartlett will
goto Etah to secure Eskimos and degs
for the south pole dash.
Partridges For Foekefeller Estate.
The Hamburg-American liner Penn
| sylvanla, which reached New York re
cently, brought a consignment of 1,880
! partridges for John D. Rockefeller's
! Pocantico Hills estate, 1,000 canaries,
' CO squirrels and 1,000 white mice.
I £• » - • - WV%-V*%WW%J»
• Work of ||
I The Black
I l •
hussars !
'unHMMWMMMMWWtMUHW
#WIIE calling of
I the I'ennsyt
f M vaula state
mm w. con st a bulary to
0. Philadei phi a re
taßL cently to help
V maintain order in
the big trol ley
strike there has di
-o jr e c t e d conslder
i able attention to
, * this organization
CAPTAIN GItOOMR r ' om a " ° r . er
country, and much
Is being written about it.
"The "black hussars," as this for
midable body ot lighting men is called,
is under command ot Captain John <J.
Grootne, its superintendent, and was
organized live years ago under an act
of the Pennsylvania legislature. It
comprises four companies or platoons.
Each company Is made up ot a cap
tain, a lieutenant, live sergeants and
fifty privates.
Ever since organization the men
have been in the saddle, so to speak,
patrolling the mountains and woods
on the routine duly of enforcing the
game laws and of lighting forest tires,
riding off in small groups to make tur
bulent villages behave and occasional
ly assembling as a squadron of caval
ry to take charge of a city like Phila
delphia. At McKees Hocks and Mount
Carmelthey went about as individuals,
making bouse to house searches of the
shacks and tenements of the miners
to confiscate dynamite and firearms.
But, in spite of the dangerous char
acter of their service, only two of the
force bnve been killed and only nine
seriously wounded In the last four
years.
Of the black hussars 90 per cent
of the men have served In Uncle Sam's
regular army, most of them In the cav
alry, and there are several ex-soldiers
of the British artny, so the men have
fought the Boxers In China, the Span
lards In Cuba, the Boers in South Afri
ca and the Moros in the Philippines,
to say nothing of the striking Polish
miners at McKees Uocks and other
hotbeds of trouble in the western part
ot Pennsylvania.
The black hussars In their Ave
years of service as state police have
traveled by train and ou horseback
nearly 300.000 miles, and they have
rendered service in fifty-four counties
and 1,683 towns and villages, some
times merely riding in and out again
as a warning, sometimes demonstrat
ing that their long ash riot sticks are
harder than the skull of the average
rioter and sometimes shooting to kill.
The nickname "black hussars" was
given them on account of their uni
form, which from helmet to puttees
is a dead black. Even the metal pieces
bearing the state coat of arms on their
helmets are oxidized, so that there is
a gray blur instead of a glitter. So
are the shoulder bars on the captains
and the lieutenauts, and so are the
spurs. There is nothing to Hash until
the long forty-fours spit tire.
The trooper's black overcoat is so
long and cuml>ersome that it makes
him look as much like a monk as a sol
dier, except for the fact that there Is
room below the bottom of it to see the
spur and the lower spiral of the strap
that binds the riding legging. But
there is a special reason for that, as
there is for every detail in the equip
ment of the state police. The troopers
come from sections,of the state where
,112 \-p :• . "f-y "
!,i fit :
' 111 jj I jljj
ISLACE UI'SSAItS tif.AD\ POll ACTION.
the snow Its still several feel deep.
They ride many miles in zero weather
in the course ot their patrol work, and
when a troo|ter is in nis saddle the
skirts ot th.it long coal spread out as
a protection fi>i ttis horses hanks and
his uwii knees
Terms ti't l.stmeut In the state
consial>ular\ ate fot two years unless
sooner discharged for cause, and with
the long waiting list at headquarters
tlie troopers have to lead rather ex
emplary lives to hold tiieir positious.
When Captain Grootne began the ex
amination of men to enlist a force of
232 lie had more than 1,000 applica
tions. It is not to lie wondered that
this duty Is attracting the best non
commissioned officers from the regu
lar army. The work is more exciting,
the men have a chance for more ini
tiative, and they are paid quite hand
somely. A private of constabulary
receives $720 a year, his horse, uni
form and a house to live In. A ser
geant receives SI,OOO a year, a lieu
tenant $1,200 aud captains $1,500. No
married men are accepted. A trooper
must be absolutely fearless. If he
shows the white feather once his use
fulness Is ended aud the force has no
place for him. The motto of the or
ganization is, "Oet your man. no mat
ter what the cost."
Exchang* of Courtesies.
One of the keenest of journalists and
wits, Morltz Gottlieb Saphlr, had the
better of the Irate stranger against
whom he ran by accident at the corner
of a street In Munich. "Beast!" cried
the offended person without waiting
for an apology. "Thank you," said the
Journalist, "and mine Is Sapb'r"
American to Judge Canadian Music.
Earl Grey, governor general of Can
ada, has appointed Howard Brockway.
the composer, a native of Brooklyn,
ns judge for the Earl Grey musical
and dramatic competitions which are
to be open to all Canada aud to last a
week.
WHOM GDD
HATH JOINED.
The Course of Events After They
Had Parted.
By VIRGINIA COOMBS HILL.
[Copyright, 1010, by American Press Asso
ciation.]
Sheldon McAllister left the court
room a free man—free nfter five years
of married life. Yet somehow ho
didn't feel quite proud of his success.
It had been easier than he expected,
for Sadie had not entered a cross bill,
as he had feared she would. In fact,
she had not even appeared In court at
all.
lie had really dreaded It, feeling so
uncertain about the result, for he
knew very well that she had had the
best of reasons for deserting him
after she luid discovered that "little
affair" of his. How well he remem
bered it all—how she had taken Lad
die and gone back to her father's
and how strangely lonesome the house
had seemed till he had concluded to
goon the road for that New York
house. lie thought he should feel bet
ter nfter that, but somehow ho didn't,
although he had written to her, in
closing a deed of their cozy little home.
But now, he assured himself, every
thing would be all right, fritz had
"MERCIPUIi HEAVEN, IT IS SADIKi"
said so, too, and Fritz ought to know
(his wife had resumed her maiden
name and gone on the stage). Of
course Sadie was not that kind of
woman at all. but he had had a gen
erous alimony settled on her. Still,
"desertion"—lt did sound pretty bad,
and ho hadn't another thing against
the girl. lie began to think of what
his mother had always said—that he
was so impulsive and slow to forgive.
lie paused in front of an art store
to take In the window exhibit. lie
had always been fond of a really
good picture, and Sadie—she had quite
a talent along such lines and before
their marriage had done some really
creditable little things in oil. lie had
been proud of her and thought her
quite a genius. But she hud really
disappointed him there, for after Lad
die was born she painted only at
rare Intervals. lie had often com
plained about it, but she always looked
hurt and said she no longer had the
time 112« r it. Tile baby, to be sure,
had beeu mighty cross day and night
till Sadie was almost ill herself, and
when it ilkl forget itself and goto
Sleep she had had to rush about and
catch up wilh her household duties.
But when he came home early one
day and ca'ight her putting away her
easel and brushes to turn her little stu
dio into a nursery he had beeu severe,
justly so, too, he thought. And she
had cried and cried, but was just as
stubborn as she couid be about it.
"What! liown i:i the mouth a bit.
old man?" came Fritz's voice over bis
shoulder, and he felt himself suddenly
whirled about and brought face to face
with his own fair bigness in a mirror
belonging to the uext window display.
"There, look at that!" continued
Fritz. "What has that handsome fel
low to complain of anyway? Why, I'm
happy even with this!" blandly survey
ing his own reflection, which was so
ugly as to be almost comical.
"Why, do you know, Mac," he con
tinued confidentially as they strolled up
the avenue, "my wife's company is
playing in town this week, and 1 went
the first night for the express purpose
of testing that part of my anatomy
where my heart Is supposed to he lo
cated. But, say, didn't I stand the test
nil O. K.? And this morning, too, 1
met her driving in the park with oue
of her adoring swains, no doubt. So,
you see, old man, it's simply a matter
of a short time only and a little manly
grit. And to a handsome cuss like you
a little matter such as a divorced wife
in the background ought to be no
handicap whatever."
"Handsome! Oh," said McAllister
disgustedly, "good looks have beeu a
curse to me. I only hope that that
kid of mine will grow tip ns homely
as a"—
"Nonsense! Hoar the boy talk!" put
In Fritz; then, pausing In front of his
hotel, "Ju?t come into the grill room
here and have a nice little dinner on
me, witli some extras to top oiT on.
and you'll feel like a new man."
Five years later Sheldon McAllister,
on his semiannual trip west, was de
tained In Chicago for a few days. On
the night before his departure he found
hlncself standing in the middle of his
room studying the handwriting on a
faintly perfumed note he held.
In the past five years he had avoid
ed all women with a stubbornness
which had won for him the everlast
ing contempt of his former friend
Fritz, and when that gay Lothario had
gradually let their friendship cool he
had laughed quietly to himself with
the real relief of it. But this dainty
little note somehow struck him quite
Irresistibly as he read:
Mr. S. P. McAllister:
Dear Sir—You will, I fear, consider tt
the height of presumption for a stranger
to write ami ask a favor of you, hut 1
' trust you will judge leniently or the eo.
centrlcltlcs of a white haired woman wha
Is wedded to her art. This Is the favor.!
Will you call at my studio some after- ■
noon this week and grant me a half hour
pose? X am a magazine Illustrator, and
your type suits the subject matter better
than any other 1 have yet discovered.
Very truly, VERA SHELDON,
Studio No. 6, 44 Blank street.
It is needless perhaps to say that \
McAllister accepted his singular in
vitation, staying over in order to cajl
the next afternoon. He had always,
beeu u haunter of studios and had
many a friend among the artists.
This, to be sure, was an exceptional'
case, being a woman, but then sh»
| was "only a little, white headed old
lady," he remarked complacently to
himself, "old enough probably to b»
my mother."
So be sauntered on up Blank street,
looking for her number. When ba
found It he eutered.
The door he looked for stood open,
and lie paused for half a breath
before knocking. Through the ropo
hangings of a small anteroom the large
, Inner studio looked like a picture in a
frame—draperies and rugs from the ori
ent, luxurious pillowed divan and win
dow seat, a cozy 5 o'clock tea table,
statuettes and graceful bric-a-brac and
pictures, pictures everywhere. Sear
the great north bay window she stood
at her easel, her back toward the door.
Simply gowned In black, her figure
; looked young in spile of its regii
i crown of lovely white hair, which the
western sun touched softly with a
■ peculiar halo-like radiance. A singu
lar little pain clutched at his heart.
' She turned, and "Merciful heaven, it
is Sadie!" ho cried, springing toward
j her.
I She met liim with hands out
| stretched, placing them in his; then ha
J would have caught her up to him im
pulsively had not an imdefmabla
something forbade him.
"Sadie! My wife, my wife!" he
cried, crushing her hands between his,
"No, not that, Sheldon, any more,
| but—l wanted to see you once more
forgive the subterfuge—and—l had to
keep oue of your names; Vera is mj
middle name. It Is the name, Mrs.
Vera Sheldon, that I have gone bj
ever since I came here three years ago
to try to forget—that which Is unfor
gettable."
He stood there, looking at her in a>
bewildered way. What had hap
pened? In one lightning flash he saw
it all. What a fool he had been—what
a fool! There was no other woman like
her, and he loved her—yes, he loved
her; ho knew now that he had loved
her through It all. And he hud been
so impulsive, so blind, so unrelenting.
He poured it all out to her—passionate
ly, penitently, yearningly—all the pent
up emotion of those live long, long
years. And she—she listened, very
gravely for a time; then she reached
up and laid her hands against hla
broad shoulders and smiled.
He caught her to his heart with a
long, low cry;
"Oh. oil. <au 1 ever forgive myself?
And you—oh, of course, you will not
—you cauuot!"
"You might at least ask and not
take everything for granted!" she
pouted, t:; in;; to turn away from him.,
ever so slightly.
"And Laddie," he asked, a few mo
ments later, "our little Laddie, whero
Is he? Surely he"—
"Laddie Is at school, but will !,t>
home presently. lie is quite a l>!g
I boy now, dear." And she smiled uj>
at liim again. How very dark her
eyes looked beneath her wonderful
hair, far more beautiful, hair aud eyes
both, than over before, though at what
I grievous cost he shuddered to think.
Somehow as he looked at her he waa
| reminded of great purple-black pansiea
caught under an untimely snowdrift.
! He touched the fluffy whiteness rever
j ently, almost fearfully, as if it might
I chill his Augers. He could not speak
i some way, but Ills eyes did it for him.
I "Yes," she said gravely, looking
j down, "sorrow has made an old wo-
I man of me. I am sorry"—
"Hush, sweet! It is not for you to>
apologize."
After a llulo he espied over by an
other wind w a eecoiul easel, quito
small, upon v ?iu-!i utocd a very credit-
I able sketch • i handsome Scotch col
lie dog. * n, r.he scrutinized*
it approviu: :
"What b.ivo you here—the work of
some pupil V"
"Yes," she answered proudly; "that
is the work of my 112 ivorite pupil-
Laddie!"
"Indeed!" he exclaimed, with en
thusiasm. "Wh t—our little Laddie>
Why, the dear little fellow couldn't
have done anything that would hav»
pleased me more."
When Laddie came in from school
an hour later he found mamma, with
such a happy look In her dark eyes,
pouring tea at the tiny table, and—
yes, his pnpa standing by her with
his baud on her glorious white hair
and looking just ns if he did not know
whether to cry or be happy or botU
| at once.
"The half hour's sitting" was.
strange to say, forgotten, but Sheldon
McAllister proved his "leniency to
ward the eccentricities of a whito
haired woman" by insisting on a flying
visit to the county clerk's office, and
when he came back ho brought a
minister with him.
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